


Dochas

by AryaWitchbane16



Series: Survival of the Heart [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Badass Women, Eating Disorders, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Veterans, but only mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 05:49:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6458395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AryaWitchbane16/pseuds/AryaWitchbane16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My brain seemed to be short-circuiting. I couldn't process what I was seeing. The man- the VERY DEAD man- had just ripped out Sharon's throat with his teeth and was now turning towards me with a feral growl. I bolted, slamming the morgue door closed and locking it. As he hammered on the glass, growling and moaning, I could hear banging and moaning begin in every closed self that had a body in it. <br/>"Fuck."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dochas

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!! I own nothing except for Odessa, Evangeline, their families, and their storylines. No hate please, I'm new at this. I will try to update regularly, but we'll see. I am also going to do my best to portray the mental illnesses in this story as realistically and as respectfully as possible, but if something is wrong just tell me and I will fix it. I've never had PTSD (thank god), but this eating disorder is partially based on my own. Please review!

Evangeline POV   
My schoolbag banged against my thighs and my feet ached as I sprinted down the hallway. Of course, the one day I decide to wear flats, the bus breaks down 8 blocks from where my support group is located, on a boiling hot summer day. I reached room 208 and yanked open the door, before freezing as every eye in the room focused on me. I suddenly became conscious my sweaty face, messy hair, and the coffee stain on the skirt of my mint green sundress.   
" Sorry!" I muttered, fidgeting uncomfortably. Delilah, the leader of the support group, gave me a big smile.  
"Evangeline! I'm so glad that you could make it!! Why don't you take a seat and introduce yourself." Her open, kind face and reassuring brown eyes eased the knot in my stomach, and I looked around the circle for a free seat. My eyes landed on the only free seat, and my heart plummeted down to my toes. Sitting in the chair next to it, was a long-limbed, dark-skinned goddess.Tall and lean, with young black woman had high cheekbones, close-cropped dark curls, and a full, lovely mouth. It seemed wrong, somehow, that this angel was sitting in a room full of broken people, when she looked like she should strutting down the runway. I sat down gingerly, very aware of the sweat on my upper lip and the way my gut poked out when I sat.   
"So, we have a new face today. Why don't you introduce yourself?" Delilah's question was aimed at the woman next to me. She shifted in her chair, and I caught a whiff of her coconut shampoo.   
"Well, I'm Odessa Okafor. I'm 22 years old, and I'm from Tennessee, up in the Smokey Mountains. Um, I was a Marine and I served for one tour in Afghanistan. I've been back for about a year, and I was recently diagnosed with PTSD." Jesus fucking Christ. Even her VOICE was sexy. How was that even possible? Still, the rich alto timbre sent a tingle up my spine.   
"Why don't we all welcome Odessa and introduce yourselves." Delilah said. The group, a mix-matched group of women, all different ages, from different backgrounds, with different issues, managed a weak greeting. I noticed a flash of irritation in Delilah's eyes at the half-hearted, luke-warm greeting, but she moved on, turning to the painfully thin woman sitting next to her. At Delilah's prompting look, the older woman began to speak, licking her cracked lips.  
"I'm Magdalena, I'm 42, and I have depression." The other women followed suite. There was Mary with bipolar, Sarah the heroin addict, Tanya the alcoholic, and about fifteen others. As Jade with bulimia spoke up next to me, I could feel my heart begin to race, my breathing quickened, my palms begin to sweat as the old mantra began to throb in my head in time with my racing pulse. Don't look at me. Don't look at me. I'm fat. I'm ugly. Don't look at me.   
"Evangeline?" Delilah's voice jerked me out of the fog. I looked at her, realizing that it was my turn. You can do it, a voice whispered in the back of my mind. Just open your mouth and talk. Come on. Just a few words. You can do this. I took a deep breath to steady myself, before forcing the words I needed to say out of my dry mouth.  
"I'm Evangeline O'Reilly. I am 22 years old, and I am recovering from Anorexia binge-purge subtype. I am working on getting my nursing degree, and I've been in recovery for two years. I'm from Needham, Massachusetts." I peeked at the woman next to me, freezing as she pinned me in place with a pair of luminous, honey-gold eyes. Time slowed down, and my heart almost stopped as a slow, sweet smile lit curved her mouth and lit up those brilliant, breathtaking eyes. She extended an elegant, long-fingered hand.  
"It's nice to meet you, Evangeline." It was a good thing that I was sitting down, because the sound of my name in her mouth made me go weak at the knees. I offered her my own Irish-pale hand to shake, and as she grasped it, tingles shot up my arm.   
"It's nice to meet you too." I had never been so sincere in my entire life. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
Odessa POV  
In a room full of washed-out, hollow-eyed women, Evangeline O'Reilly was the only splash of color, of life. Her flame-red hair drew the eye like a candle draws moths. Huge green eyes peeked at me through thick lashes, and I noticed a spray of faint freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose like stars. My face stayed smooth, but my heart pounded as I shook her small, warm hand. She returned my smile with a hesitant, nervous one of her own, but it was enough. Dimples appeared in her smooth, porcelain cheeks, and the blush that spread across her face made her look even more like one of the flawless dolls from my step-mother's antique shop.   
The rest of the therapy session passed in a blur, and though I tried to pay attention, I was distracted by the woman sitting next to me. She was tiny, short and slender and dainty. The straps of her mint green dress draped over her delicate collarbones so perfectly that it was hard to tear my eyes away, and when I finally managed to do that, it was only to follow the elegant curve of her neck, the delicate, bird-like arms, the lean muscles of her legs, and the full pink lips. I could feel her eyes on me, taking in the shaved head, the black tank-top, and the globe and anchor Marine Corps tattoo that I had on the inside of my right forearm. Finally, Delilah lead us in the closing affirmation.  
"I promise to love myself for both my strengths and my flaws. I am perfectly imperfect, and I deserve to be happy, healthy, and loved." Evangeline stood up, ready to leave, and I made one of the split-second decisions that I was famous for in my platoon. I leapt to my feet, one hand reaching out to close around her fragile wrist. She gasped, and I let go like I'd been burned.  
"Sorry." I muttered, cursing my recklessness. How could I just grab her like that? What the fuck was wrong with me? But she shook her head and smiled at me, and I plucked up my courage.   
"Do you want to grab a drink? I mean, with me, not with anyone else, obviously. But, only if you want to, I mean you don't have to." Great. Now she's gonna think you're a bumbling idiot. Good job Odessa. Evangeline stared at me for a few seconds, open-mouthed, and I could feel heat crawling up my cheeks. She's going to say no, and now you can never show your face here again and-  
"Okay." A smile lit up her face, and suddenly I realized how very wrong I was. The smile she had given me earlier was nothing compared to this smile. She looked like the sun, like an angel, a goddess of flame and light, whose very presence stole the air from my lungs. As she turned and began to make her way towards the door, one thought filled my mind....I was so unbelievably fucked.


End file.
